Eyes, look your last!Arms, take your last embrace!

But in this kind to come, in braving arms,Be his own carver and cut out his way,To find out right with wrong, it may not be.

It adds a precious seeing to the eye;/ A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind;/ A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound.

And Sir, it is no little thing to make mine eyes to sweat compassion.

Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.
Close up his eyes and draw the curtain close;
And let us all to meditation.

If I must die,I will encounter darkness as a bride,And hug it in mine arms.